


Impressions

by lunarshores



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 22:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19412488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarshores/pseuds/lunarshores
Summary: Ace has never been one for romantic tales of soulmates.He's got bigger things to worry about than some random person's thoughts writing themselves along his ribcage. Whoever it was would hate him when he killed their captain soon anyway.Besides he wasn't the type to let destiny tell him what to do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImperialMint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint/gifts).



> This is a one year and several days late birthday fic for ImperialMint. A very happy birthday to you, and I'm so very glad this fandom brought us together all those years (still only 5 I have proof) ago. My life is so much better for having you in it!! <3 
> 
> Soulmate AU because she's weak for them and also we're soulmates. It was supposed to be short??????? Curse my proclivity for slow burn.
> 
> Most of this is already written, and I'm hoping to get the rest done tomorrow, so I will actually update this at a somewhat reasonable time. Probably. It's going to be three parts unless the end utterly runs away from me again.

Ace didn’t have attention to spare to the writing he could feel scrawling along his hip. Supposedly, it meant finding his soulmate---the whole thing was bunk if you asked him, and besides, whoever it was was clearly on the new ship as he was pretty sure he’d met all of his own crew. And he’d been fighting Jinbe for three days. Whoever it was would hate him soon enough if they didn’t already, so it really didn’t matter. He forced himself off the ground from where he’d collapsed and threw out a wall of fire to protect his crew as Whitebeard thundered forward. 

He didn’t have time for soulmates.

*

He woke up on an unfamiliar ship, furious. At Whitebeard, at his stupid “sons”, at his own crew, and mostly himself. Ace had  _ lost _ . He wasn’t any better than  _ that man _ . He gritted his teeth and stared up at the ceiling, eyes watering, and let himself wallow for just a second or two. He could do this. He would do this, for himself, for Luffy. 

Just the thought of Luffy brought a reluctant smile to his face, and he took a breath and sat up. He was acting like his stupid little brother, and that wouldn’t do. He swung his legs out of the bed they had him in and winced. Training would be rough for a few days. His side tingled again, and this time Ace let himself look. What did the foolish Whitebeard Pirate think of him now?

_ Foolish kid. Gutsy though, gotta give him that. And Pops loves him already. _

Fire licked along Ace’s skin, relieving him of the pressure of bandages wrapped around his chest. The wood underneath his feet caught fire as rage built in him. Ace causally stamped it out. They were probably out at sea, and he had no desire to drown. He has a promise to keep to Luffy. His hat lay on the rickety table next to the bed, and he put it on and smirked.

Kid, huh? He’d show them.

*

Marco was on babysitting duty. He didn’t mind really. Someone definitely needed to keep an eye on Ace after the beating he took that morning. Three days on board, and he hadn’t let up once. His injuries from the fight with Jinbe weren’t even healed, and the idiot still insisted on attacking Pops every day. And then he trained any waking moment, squirreled away in some forgotten corner or other. Ace paused, a hand drifting down to his side, and Marco frowned from his perch above him and leaned forward. Those ribs weren’t giving him trouble, were they?

Ace’s scowl deepened when he looked down at his side, and he threw himself into his workout with more fervor. Marco rolled his eyes. Ace was leagues away from being able to challenge Pops---any of the commanders could wipe the floor with him at this point. Healed up... Marco watched as flames flew out across the ocean, further than he could see. If the idiot let himself heal, then he might go head to head with one of them. 

Ace’s concentration slipped, and he teetered on the edge for a moment. Marco sighed. Well, if he healed up and had a few more years under his belt. Ace looked at his side again, and Marco squinted. Maybe he’d ask Pops to knock him out next time, so he could examine Ace properly. His ribs were clearly bugging him. 

Marco shifted out of sight just before Ace whirled around, eyes flitting around trying to catch a glimpse of him. So he did have haki then. Marco smiled. Pops always did pick interesting ones. He slipped through a door and headed down to the kitchen to steal a peace offering from the kitchen.

Thatch caught him at it (not that Marco was trying to be truly sneaky) and rather than let Marco get away with it, he started putting together a whole  _ cart _ of food.

“Have you seen the way the kid is eating?” Thatch asked, slicing into some vegetables in a way that had Marco stepping back. Marco shook his head. It seemed safest. “His chef pulled me aside yesterday to warn me. I think he might have an appetite that outdoes Roger back in the day. No one goes hungry on any of our ships!”

Marco frowned. “Is he not eating?” 

“Just what he can steal. If I leave something out to obviously, he ignores it.” Thatch glared at him, knife still in hand. “You’ll make him eat right?”

Marco thought of Ace’s determined face as he trained endlessly and hummed. “I’ll do my best. He’s stubborn though.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Thatch said, and Marco smacked him and dodged the knife that came too slowly to be more than play. 

“Ass,” he said, and snagged a roll to eat while he waited for Thatch to be done.

*

Marco wheeled the enormous amount of food to Ace’s training deck via a circuitous route to avoid stairs. When he made it, Ace was still there, panting as flames swirled around him. They were beautiful---they always were. Flames always called to Marco, and he smiled at Ace’s glower. 

Ace’s eyes flicked over him. Marco inhaled sharply. That was certainly unexpected. He tugged his sleeve down to make sure his wrist was covered and smoothed out his expression. Somehow, he doubted Ace would be in any way welcoming. Marco studied his soulmate with more interest. 

“Poisoning me now?”

Marco raised a brow. “Our chef has strict rules. No one goes hungry here. Even if they are throwing a temper tantrum.” Flames licked up Ace’s arms at that. Marco noted in fascination that they didn’t even singe his sleeves.

“I’m not hungry.” Ace’s stomach growled, and he turned bright red under Marco’s eye.

Marco hummed. “Sure you’re not.” He pushed the cart forward, resting it in front of Ace. “It’s not poisoned. Pops likes you and wants you to join the family. And besides, none of us need to poison you to get rid of you.”

“I don’t need your charity,” Ace snapped.

“You need to heal, and to do that you need to eat. You can be an idiot and attack Pops all you want, but you need to eat. That’s the rule.” Marco stood still under Ace’s gaze. He could feel the words flitting around his wrist as Ace tried to make up his mind. It was a shame he’d miss them all. 

The sun was setting behind them, coloring the air a rich crimson. “What’s it to you?” Ace asked, bristling, and Marco’s wrist ached. He shoved down laughter, even though nothing was funny. He inclined his head. 

“It’s the least you can do after burning all the bandages I put on you.” He let his gaze skim to Ace’s chest, bare underneath his yellow shirt. “At least, that’s what I assume happened to them.” Ace flushed, and Marco sighed. “You’re not going to beat Pops half-starved. All your training won’t do any good in the world unless you take some semblance of care for yourself.” 

Ace’s eyes narrowed, and Marco waited. Ace looked at the cart and sighed. 

“Fine.” 

“Take the cart back to the kitchen when you’re done. Thatch doesn’t bite.”

With that Marco headed in, heart beating in his chest. He went all the way to his quarters in the medical wing before he let himself look at his wrist.

_ This doesn’t mean I like him _ . Marco laughed leaning back on his door. This would be even more interesting than he expected.

*

Ace took care to steal the food left out for him after that. He didn’t need to be chased down by the unsettling doctor again. Not that he'd softened his attitude for a minute. It was simple. He needed food to be strong enough to take Whitebeard down. And he would.

He perched on a ledge that would let him watch the gathered pirates below. He was in shadow, screened by a railing, and they couldn't see him with their eyes blinded by the flickering lights below. The attack for today had left him with some nasty bruises, but nothing too concerning. Mostly irritating. In two weeks, he'd yet to even come close.

Ace gritted his teeth, looking down on the enemy below him. He'd come up here to plot. The fires the Whitebeards had gathered around looked inviting. They were scattered across the deck in clumps of up to a dozen, talking and laughing, cheating at cards. His stomach churned, and it had nothing to do with the roiling of the sea. It wasn't that long ago when he had a crew, and they would gather and tell stories just like this.

His crew was on another ship now, the overly friendly cook had said. They'd been kept together after surrendering. At least they were safe. Ace would go rescue them when he was done with this. If they wanted him to. 

Ace leaned further into the railing, his hat slipping off to hang off his back. Strategizing... there had to be a way to beat the old man. Warmth traced across his side, and Ace heaved a sigh. That was the last thing he needed. More stupid comments wondering if he was eating or commenting on his training, or laughing at him. Whoever it was obviously knew who Ace was, but he’d never seen them. Everyone but the annoying cook and that doctor, Marco, knew better than to talk to him. 

Against his better judgement he leaned back and created a small flame along his side, just enough so he could see.  _ I wish he would come down _ . _ He looks so lonely _ .

Ace swallowed hard and doused his flames. Someone had noticed him. He quickly looked down, but there was just Marco staring up at him. Stupid doctor noticed the least little things. Ace had yet to see him fight, but with awareness like this, Ace was pretty sure Marco wasn’t kidding when he’d said he could kill him anytime, poison or no. The flames gleamed in Marco’s hair, glinting gold in the firelight, and their eyes caught. Someone said something to Marco, and he turned away, rubbing his wrist. 

Ace shook himself, but whoever his soulmate was, they weren’t looking up at him now. Sneaky. He huffed and got up. He’d strategize in the storeroom he’d commandeered for his quarters. 

*

Shit, did Ace know? Marco looked away to answer one of his crewmates without paying attention. Marco wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It also didn’t help that Marco couldn’t say for sure what he’d been thinking intensely enough to have it drawn along Ace’s skin. His side to be precise. Right under his ribcage. 

Marco kept himself from checking his wrist as Ace was slipping away on the off chance he hadn’t given himself away. His wrist burned, and Marco wondered what he’d see there. Disgust? Anger? Did he not know and think about him anyway? Shit, was all of this scrawling along Ace’s side? Marco wondered if his crewmates would forgive him if he just jumped off the side of the boat. And transformed. Oh god, he kept thinking about Ace’s ribcage. 

Marco stood up abruptly, ignoring his crew members’ startled glances, and said goodnight. He was even gladder that no one had noticed yet, and that he hadn’t said anything. Teasing was the last thing he needed on top of this. 

When he’d slipped into the hallway, he took a deep breath before pulling back his sleeve. Marco barked out a laugh. He could practically see the annoyance in the writing.  _ He always notices, should have been more careful. He’s probably right. _

Right about what?! Marco was definitely right, but why did it cut off there? Did this mean Ace would join? Marco shook his head. No, he couldn’t think that. Nothing would drive Ace away from that decision faster than something like that scrawling along his side. Even if he somehow hadn’t caught on to who was responsible. 

Marco let his feet carry him around the ship, not ready to settle yet. What else could he have been right about? Ace never listened to him whenever he let Marco catch him. If Ace did figure it out what would he think? Marco’s lips twitched. The first part meant Ace had notice Marco was watching him. Maybe he was just right about Ace needing to eat or keep his damn bandages on. 

He’d reached the end of a hallway and blinked. The door he stood in front of was Ace’s room. Or well, the broom closet Ace turned into his room. Cursing himself he froze, heart beating. He should go. 

Soft snoring emanated from the closet, and Marco relaxed with a smile. He rested a hand on the door.

“Good night, Ace,” he whispered.

He turned sharply around, paying attention this time to make sure his traitorous feet didn’t betray him again. He really hoped Ace would join.

*

_ He _ was back again. Ace gritted his teeth and tried to ignore his audience of one. Marco had taken to showing up more and more often to watch him train in the mornings. If Ace had already tried to attack Whitebeard, he’d come bearing medical supplies, supervising while Ace tended his own injuries. He refused to let Marco treat him unless he was unconscious, and then he didn’t exactly have a say in the matter. But he’d yet to attack today and had barely been injured yesterday, and the bastard was still there watching his motions with disinterest. 

After ten minutes, Ace couldn’t take it any longer. “What?!” Marco didn’t jump at his sudden yell, just smiled. Ace swallowed and crossed his arms, letting flames dance across his skin. 

“Wanna spar?” Marco drawled, and Ace blinked.

“What?”

“You’re not going to get better faster by yourself.”

“You---you want to help me get better to kill your captain?”

“He’s my father.” Marco smirked. “And he told you yesterday you were a thousand years too early to challenge him, didn’t he? A little sparring isn’t going to work miracles.”

Ace growled and threw a punch at Marco’s stupid smug face, flames wrapped around his fist. If the bastard wanted to “spar”, Ace would show--- Marco caught the punch easily. He kept a grip on Ace’s fist and flames trailed up his wrist. Marco quirked a smile instead of any sane reaction to being set on fire. Blue flames sprouted to dance with the orange. 

“Huh,” Marco said and smiled at him. “Pretty.”

Ace snarled and lunged at him. Marco dodged, springing back. The blue flames engulfed his arms and they shifted to wing as he launched himself in the air. Ace’s jaw dropped. Marco the Phoenix... that didn’t mean---but there was no time to think about that. Ace tried to dissipate around the kick, but it hit him squarely on the shoulder with barely enough force to make him stumble.

“Lazy. Logia users often are.” Marco landed, flames dissipating. “Not the good ones.”

“Shut up! If you’re going to fight me, then fight me, bastard!” 

Marco smiled. “No, we’re sparring.”

Ace let off a whole flurry of attacks. Even when one managed to hit, Marco seemed completely unfazed, blue flames wreathing him.

“What kind of power is that anyway?!” Ace stepped back, Marco allowing him to circle him.

Marco blinked. “You didn’t know? I’m a phoenix. I can heal.”

Ace stopped. The flames had sprung up where he’d hit... so it wasn’t that he was completely invulnerable. 

“Apparently I’m invulnerable to even your flames... I wasn’t sure about that. Only tried it with campfires.” Marco dropped his defense too and watched him with a bemused expression.

“So you can fly?”

Marco nodded. “It’s easier when I fully transform though.”

“That’s so cool.” Ace raised a hand igniting his palm, and Marco pressed his palm to it without a thought. The blue flames felt warm as they flickered against his own, and Ace watched in amazement. Warmth traveled up his arm, soothing the shoulder Marco had kicked and Ace’s ribs where they still ached from yesterday. Ace frowned in confusion.

“Er, I can heal other people just not as well. Sorry, I should have asked first but...” 

“I’d have said no.”

“Well, yes.” Marco drew his hand back. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’ll be sorry when I beat your father tonight.” Ace felt his lips curving up into a smiled and quashed it. This was still the enemy.

Marco threw back his head and laughed. 

“Can I see the phoenix?”

“Land a hit on me and sure.” Ace smirked and cracked his knuckles. They slid back into fighting stances, and Ace lunged.

*

Marco leaned back against his door and tried not to feel like a teenager in love. The butterflies in his chest refused to settle down, so he gave in and fell face first onto his bed. He hadn’t been able to look at his wrist all morning, just in case Ace noticed. 

Ace had managed to land a blow just about an hour after they started. Marco was seriously glad no one had been watching because they’d have known he’d let him. He’d wanted to show off for Ace. Not because of some stupid soulmate thing, but just because he wanted to watch the hints of friendly Ace. Craved it. Maybe get a real smile out of him, not a smirk. 

The look of wonder hadn’t been a smile, but it had been worth it anyway. Watching it bloom along Ace’s face... Marco had been glad Ace had been distracted. Whatever was scrawling along his side was probably unbearably sappy. 

Marco groaned and rolled over looking at the ceiling. They’d resumed sparring afterward. Marco hadn’t dared offer Ace a ride, not wanting to be shot down. But he hadn’t wanted to leave him yet, not when he had been so open. Ace needed a family. That was clear. Whatever else might or might not happen, he was going to make sure Ace got one.

He finally let himself look at his wrist. There was only one word.

_ Beautiful. _

Marco shoved his face back into the comforter. Ace was going to kill him.

Marco wasn’t sure he minded.

*

Ace ignored the chill to the evening air, curling in on himself. He shouldn’t even feel it. It had been 100 days since he’d woken up on this ship. 100 days, and nothing had changed. Everyday, he failed himself, failed his crew failed Luffy. Failed Sabo. 

He wasn’t good enough. Ace would never step out of the shadow he’d been born into because he just wasn’t good enough. Ace’s eyes watered, and he sniffed loudly. Marco had been right that no amount of sparring was going to help. 

Gold light flooded the dark deck, the sounds of people singing, yelling, and eating pouring out. Ace hunched at the reminder of what he didn’t deserve. A bowl of steaming soup was set next to him, and Ace knew without looking who it was without even looking up. 

Marco leaned against the railing next to him staring out at the ocean. The usual complaints about Marco’s obsession with his health caught in his throat, choking him, but Marco didn’t seem to mind. Ace had thought he didn’t want to be around people, but the warm silence wrapped around him, eased something in his chest. 

More weakness.

He wrapped a hand around the bowl and pulled it close, staring at the vegetables floating. It smelled amazing and his stomach growled. He took a spoonful before Marco could comment. 

“You need to make a choice, Ace.” Ace curled in at his words, stomach tangling. Marco was right. Ace knew he was. “You can leave. We won’t keep you here if that’s not what you want.” Marco paused, and Ace looked up to see his face, unreadable as he looked out on the night sky. “Or you can stay here, join our family, sail the seas as Pops’s son.” At this he smiled, warm like a blanket settling over Ace’s shoulders. “You know we’d love to have you.”

Ace looked away, eyes filling up again. His side burned where whoever on this ship that was supposed to love him must surely be thinking what a failure he was, when would he finally leave, what a joke he was. Marco sighed, letting go of the railing and tugging at his sleeve.

He could almost believe Marco did want him to stay. When they sparred or Marco was patching him up, he was always so kind. Just like Whitebeard if Ace didn’t leap to the attack first. He thought back to earlier, when he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to ambush Whitebeard, how close Whitebeard and Marco had seemed. Their camaraderie, all the jokes, and open, honest affection, and suddenly Ace missed home like a knife to the heart. 

What would Luffy do?

Marco sighed and turned away from the railing. “You can’t keep on this way, Ace.” He was almost to the door before Ace found his voice. 

“Why---why do you call him that?”

“What Pops?” Marco turned to look at him over his shoulder, one hand on the door. His smile lit up his face. “Because he calls us his sons. Because even though people hate us around the world, those words make us happy.”

Ace’s eyes filled with tears, but all his could see as Marco went insides was a sunny field back home, three bright red sake cups, and the smiles on his brothers’ faces all those years ago.

His side burned, but Ace didn’t bother to look. This choice was his alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!! Should still only be one more chapter after this and I'll try to get it up sooner. ImperialMint is unlikely to let me make any more excuses. Unbeta'd, so there are definitely typos.

Marco hadn’t seen Ace since he’d taken the mark. He’d had to fly out that night he’d talked with Ace. They’d needed his expertise in on of their islands, some sort of rare disease. Marco never felt very kindly about rare disease, but he had to admit to being extra resentful of this one. To keep anyone else from being exposed, he went himself, flying above the sea. 

He never had a problem navigating, not since he’d eaten his fruit. The magnetism that allowed log poses to work, let him navigate just fine even out of bird form. The disease had taken a few weeks to fully crack. But now he was finally comfortable leaving his patients in the hands of the other doctors and on his way home. 

Whitebeard had told him when Ace had taken the mark. He’d called Marco privately, just so he could use that all too knowing voice on him. Marco was glad, teasing or no. He didn’t think he’d be able to keep up his mask of mild interest. Pops, he could handle. The rest of the crew might get ideas.

The mast of the Moby Dick came into view, and Marco’s heart sped up. He had to force himself to push out of the easy traveling pace he’d forced himself into. Whitebeard had called last night just to tell him Ace had officially unveiled his mark and it was bigger than Marco’s  _ and  _ had more colors. He wouldn’t tell him where. Marco was beginning to regret talking him up as a father and told him so.

He’d been spotted, crewmates waving to him from the crow’s nest as he swooped down for a practiced landing in front of Whitebeard’s chair. He shifted as he landed, hands casually in his pockets. Those on deck stopped to whistle, clap, and jeer. Whitebeard laughed, loud and booming, and some part of Marco settled because that sound meant he was home, that everything would be fine. 

“Everyone safe?” Pops asked, and Marco grinned, settling in his favorite spot next to Pops’ chair. Someone threw a bottle of sake at his head, and Marco caught it gracefully. He waved the bottle in thanks. 

“Yep.” 

“Good.” Whitebeard laughed again, and Marco raised a brow, uncorking the sake and taking a slow drink. He sighed as Whitebead continued. “I heard I have you to thank for convincing our newest member into taking my mark.”

Marco smiled, staring out at the sea. The color was deepening with the approaching night, the sky a pale blue shot through with red fire. A good omen, if this were any ordinary sea.

“It was all him. I just gave him a push.” 

“Well, enough of hanging around an old man like me, I’m sure you have better things to get to.” Whitebeard winked, and Marco grinned up at him, unrepentant. 

“Nope, your check up is first on my list, old man.”

“Your brothers and sisters are perfectly capable doctors and nurses.” Whitebeard was definitely looking cagey. “They took fine care of me.”

“They’re perfectly capable, but they let you walk all over them.”

Whitebeard grumbled, but they’d had this debate too many times to bother acting it out once again. Marco ushered him to his room for a check up. The others had let him drink too much and probably overtax himself, but Marco had long learned to accept that his father was a terrible patient. It could have been much worse. Marco was just finishing the obligatory scolding when Whitebeard’s door was flung open with a crash, then slammed closed just as quickly.

Ace turned to them with a guilty expression.”Sorry, Pops, The others were---” He froze in mid bow and almost fell over. “Oh, Marco! You’re back.” Ace righted himself and he  _ grinned _ . Open, carefree, and happy. Dazzling.

Marco coughed to try and get some air in his lungs. Pops “helpfully” hit him on the back with the force of a small meteor. He was grinning like a loon, that traitor. “Hi, Ace. I see you made your choice.” 

“Yeah! Look!” He spun around, and Marco finally noticed he  _ wasn’t wearing a shirt _ . And then was distracted all over again, because the design he’d gotten was gorgeous.

Pops smacked him on the back again, unprompted. Marco was grateful, even if whoever would have to fix the floors from the indentation he’d made wouldn’t be. “It’s wonderful Ace.”

The grin was back, shot over his shoulder this time. Marco flicked Whitebeard before he could raise his arm again. Ace spun around and bowed. “Thank you for helping me!”

Marco had known Ace needed this family, known he’d needed Whitebeard’s special insanity, known it with an uneasy desperation, because he’d never known Ace to take what he’d needed unless he was unconscious. But this. He’d never expected this dramatic of a change from the snarling hatred of a month ago. He stepped forward and clapped his shoulder. A frisson of heat frizzled up his arm as Marco urged him up.

“Don’t mention it. You’re family now. Were then too.”

Whitebeard watched the two of them, his eyes laughing. Marco hated him. “He’s right, son.” His eyes shifted to the door. “They’re coming.”

“Oh shit,” Ace said, looking back and forth. Marco snatched open the closet door, and shoved him in, ignoring the frisson of heat from fingers sliding along the warmth of Ace’s skin. Nothing he hadn’t had to ignore plenty of times when Ace was hurt badly enough for Marco to convince him to sit still for an exam or bandages. He was back at Whitebeard’s side before the door once more was flung unceremoniously open, catching the stethoscope Whitebeard had tossed him in his still tingling hands and putting it in his ears with a practiced motion. Most of the second division milled in, then froze. Marco raised a brow and looked at Whitebeard.

“Does anyone bother to knock anymore?”

Whitebeard’s booming laugh melted the frozen looks on Ace’s new crewmates. “No one’s ever bothered to knock, not even when it was just you, brat.”

Marco pulled a face at him, then looked back at the intruders. “Can I help you?” They edged back toward the door. 

“No, commander, sorry!” Marco waved them off with a smile and sighed when they closed the door. 

“Hazing still?”

“Let them have their fun, son.”

Ace popped out of the closet and grinned, something much more like Marco was used to from when they’d sparred or he’d challenged Whitebeard. Marco recognized danger when he saw it, even if it was still in the making. He’d never been one to avoid danger, even before he’d been labelled a pirate.

“It’s fine, Marco!” Ace cracked his knuckles. “They won’t know what hit them. Plus you’re the only one that can find me on this ship!” As Ace was slipping out, Marco caught sight of turquoise writing,  _ He’s going to be the death of me _ . 

The only mercy was there was no way Whitebeard could have seen it. 

*

He’d done it. He’d told Whitebeard his biggest secret, and Whitebeard still accepted him. Loved him even. Ace’s throat was tight as he stared out at the ocean in one of his old favorite haunts from before he’d joined. No one could find him here. Whitebeard knew about Roger, and he didn’t care. He didn’t deserve that. Luffy and Sabo had accepted, but they were different. They’d all been children, or as much of it as they ever could be. Whitebeard had known that monster.

When he’d left Whitebeard’s room, he’d run into Marco just about to knock on Whitebeard’s door. He always knocked, unlike everyone else. There had to be some joke there because it was the most pointed knock Ace had ever heard. 

“Ace?! Are you okay?” Ace hastily wiped his eyes, far too late. Marco was already reaching out, one arm wrapping around Ace’s shoulders, as he looked to Whitebeard for answers. This close Ace could smell the sea on him, see the shades of blue in his worried eyes. He almost started crying again.

“I’m fine,” he said, smiling even as his eyes watered again. “Good.” It didn’t melt all the concern from Marco’s brow, and his arm tightened around Ace’s shoulders. He looked back at Whitebeard. “Could---could you tell Marco? I don’t...” He trailed off, but Whitebeard smiled. Ace couldn’t believe he’d said that. But Marco... he was here because of Marco in a way. He’d probably have given in at some point, but---it just felt right.

“Of course, son.”

“Just Marco.”

Whitebeard did laugh at that, and shot Marco a look Ace couldn’t begin to decipher. “Of course,” he repeated. 

Marco looked between them slowly. “You’re sure you’re okay, Ace?”

“Better even,” Ace said, and Marco nodded slowly. 

“If you need anything, my door’s always open.” Ace swallowed. That might not be true when he knew.

“He won’t change his mind, son,” Whitebeard said. Marco’s arm tightened again, and he scowled at Ace. “Let him go, Marco. You can go find him later if you must. And he lets you.” Whitebeard winked at Ace, who felt himself flush bright red. He did  _ not _ let Marco find him on the ship when he’d been still an enemy. Marco just had uncannily good senses. 

Marco dropped his arm, and Ace made his hasty escape, ending up here. Overlooking the sea, thinking about Whitebeard’s words and whether Marco would hate him. Well, until he felt writing on his hip and looked curiously. 

_ I wish he knew I’d never stop caring about him for Roger. Even if I did care, Whitebeard is his father now. _

No. 

Ace stared at the shifting ink on his skin.

It couldn’t be.

But there was no other explanation. It had to be him. But there was no way it could be. Ace stumbled backward, sinking down against the mast. He didn’t deserve a soulmate, much less  _ him _ . The only one who knew that on this ship besides Pops was Marco. 

Even the color of the ink, now that he thought about it. It was the same color as Marco’s flames. 

*

Marco’s wrist tingled, and he rolled back his sleeve immediately. It wasn’t like Whitebeard didn’t know.  _ Marco?!  _ Marco’s eyes widened. He knew. Shit, he’d been so careless. Ace wasn’t asleep and he’d let himself think about... 

_ Of course _ .  _ Who else? _

Marco’s heart beat a million times a minute. That really couldn’t be healthy devil’s fruit or not. He took a deep breath before Whitebeard could decide he needed distracted with a “pat” on the back again and got up to dig out the emergency sake. 

He poured for both of them. 

“I hope you’re not planning to stay long.” Whitebeard eyed him over the rim of his cup.

“He won’t come by tonight.”

“He knows now, doesn’t he?

“Yeah,” Marco said, unable to keep the smile from his lips. “But you know how stubborn he can be. He’s not one to let whatever mystical forces tell him what to do. If he’d wanted something with me, he’d have done something about it by now. He’ll either want it someday or not, my thoughts on his skin bedamned”

“And you’ll let mystical forces tell you what to do?”

“Hell no.” Marco’s grin widened. “But Ace is a lot more stubborn than even me.”

Whitebeard laughed, a big booming sound that would have woken half the ship if they weren’t all used to it. 

*

Ace knew exactly what to do. Marco obviously knew already and had from the beginning. But that didn’t mean anything. Just because Marco was Marco, that didn’t mean he believed in soulmates. Ace didn’t. If anything, Ace should feel bad for Marco for getting stuck with someone like him. 

Ace caught himself absently tracing the spot where the proof that Marco didn’t care had etched itself into his skin last night. Carefully, he took his hand away.

The whole instant storybook ending? That wasn’t for him. So he’d do nothing.

His plan was tested slightly when he ran into Marco at breakfast a couple of weeks later. Pops had sent Ace out on a mission the next day after their talk to give him space. Ace wondered if he knew about  _ this _ too. It wouldn't surprise him. It didn't bother him if Pops knew this. Marco would have to bear the brunt of his teasing anyway, he was sure. So he hadn't had to face Marco since he'd figured it out.

Pops definitely knew. 

But it just had to be breakfast. Breakfast was one of the harder times not to think about Marco though. Even before he knew about the whole soulmate thing. Before he knew that Marco knew the worst about him and didn’t care. Probably didn’t care. You couldn’t lie through soul bonds right??? He was pretty sure Makino had something about that. 

Anyway. 

Marco was not a morning person. He was propped up on an elbow at the table, muzzy and soft when Ace approached him. He started when Ace said good morning, but smiled sleepily at him. From upside down, as he tilted his head back, his throat exposed. Ace's heart was in his throat, but Marco just nodded to the seat next to him. Ace began his well-practiced setting down of half a dozen plates, and frowned at Marco's solitary piece of toast.

That he knew how to handle. Best to focus on that. 

Ace slipped a piece of ham onto Marco's plate. Marco sat up, narrowing his eyes at the meat on the plate. He poked it with a fork suspiciously. Ace laughed.

"What, I'm not allowed to feed you? You used to chase me around with food all the time."

"Not this early in the morning." Marco wrinkled his nose. It was adorable, and Ace flushed. Shit, did that appear somewhere on Marco. Without thinking about it, Ace gave him a quick glance over. He didn't see any words. Maybe Marco wasn't his soulmate just because Ace was his, but Ace got that feeling that wasn't the case. It must be somewhere normally under Marco's clothes. Ace flushed, looking down at his plates and shoveling breakfast into his mouth mechanically.

The ham appear back on his plate, and he raised a brow at Marco. "You can't just eat toast."

Marco sighed as if Ace's concern for his well being was terribly troubling and inconvenient and stole an apple from his plate instead. Ace rolled his eyes, but at least it was something.

Marco took a bracing sip of his coffee. "Did you have fun on the mission?"

"Yeah," Ace said, and Marco's smile warmed him throughout. "I did."

"Good."

That morning started something of an unspoken tradition. If both of them were on the Moby Dick, they'd have breakfast together. Ace wouldn't think anything of it, but one time Marco had been late, staying up all night for an emergency surgery, and had come instead of going straight to bed. Along his hipbone were the words that didn't lie.

_ Oh shit I'm late. I hope he's still there _ .

So Ace had daddled, getting a second breakfast and waited for Marco. His relieved smile made it all worth it.

*

It was rare that the Moby Dick was attacked. Generally, not many were that stupid. However, there was always someone who wanted to prove themselves. Like Ace had once upon a time. Only most of them weren't invited to join their family. They didn't need a home, they wanted power. Pops could always tell.When a challenger did appear, the commanders who happened to be on board sometimes had a little too much fun with it. Marco was no exception, especially since he rarely left the main ship. 

But they still had watch, just in case. The Grand Line could (and did) throw all kinds of insanity at them, and sometimes even some young marine officer, too eager to prove themselves threw a fleet at them in the middle of the night. 

But not tonight.

Ace sighed and flopped onto his back, hat going askew. He stared up at the crystal clear sky, stars twinkling down, over the eerily calm ocean. It was a beautiful night, bordering on hot and muggy, not that that ever bothered Ace. It was just him and the sky, the other people on watch down below and in the other crow’s nests too quiet and far away to disrupt the feeling of being the only one. 

Ace prefered the daytime watches for sure. There were always people around, and sometimes Marco would bring lunch (like old times, he’d say) when he didn't have many patients. Ace missed him with a pang. He’d been away for a bit, and then Ace and his division had been sent to Wano, and when he’d gotten back Marco was off again before he’d been on the ship a couple of hours. He’d landed with his usual show after lunch today, and tomorrow he would be there for breakfast, barring emergencies or one of them being sent off again. 

Ace was a little pathetically excited. 

His side tingled, and Ace 

A creak on the ladder, had Ace bolting upright, fists lighting. 

“Just me,” Marco said softly but unmistakably. He held a mug out to Ace, who took it with a smile of thanks. “I couldn’t sleep and figured I’d come keep you company if you don’t mind.”

“No! Of course not.” Not smooth at all. He thought about accidentally falling off the crow’s nest, then decided that was probably slightly more embarrassing. Only slightly though. He took a sip from his cup. Hot chocolate. Ace hummed and smiled up at Marco.

Maybe an odd choice for a muggy night, but it was his favorite, and it’s not like heat bothered either of them. And it was Ace’s favorite this time of night. 

He took another sip to drown out whatever expression was on his face, but Marco was settling down against the mast. Ace joined him after a beat, sitting a bit closer than he meant to. 

“It’s been awhile since we’ve had a chance to catch up,” Marco said. 

Oh god, did Marco see Ace’s thoughts from before? That he missed him? Was that why he was here? 

“I missed you,” Marco said, and his face was too shadowed for Ace to pick up on his expression. 

“I missed you too,” he said, and if his voice that was easy enough to blame on the hot chocolate. Ace cleared his throat. “How’d your mission go?”

Marco sighed. “I lost a few patients.” 

Ace leaned into his side unconsciously. “Shit Marco, I’m sorry.”

“No doctor is a stranger to death.”

“Still.” Ace rested his hand on Marco’s knee. 

Marco sighed, his chest expanding and contracting against Ace’s side, and he slumped so a little more of his weight pressed against Ace. They drank they hot chocolate in silence, only the soft sounds of the ocean and wind in the sails.

“What’s the news here?” Marco asked, and Ace sensing he needed to talk about something else, immediately launched into a tale of the latest prank wars, and his unsuccessful attempts to steal sake away from Pops while Marco was gone. 

“Did you even try?”

Ace glanced away. “A little, but he looked so sad!”

“You’re all weak,” Marco said. “This is why I don’t leave.”

His eyelashes glowed silver in the light from the moon, brushing against his cheeks each time he blinked. Ace was overtaken with the urge to touch, bury on hand into Marco’s hair, trace the line of his cheekbone, cradle his head and---

“---right, Ace?”

Ace startled, his eyes snapping back to Marco’s guiltily. “Uhh...”

A frisson of warning trailed down his spine, and he and Marco had leapt to their feet to face the ship on the horizon. They traded incredulous looks as it became clear it was heading right to them. Ace grinned and settled his hat back on his head.

“Looks like our lucky night!” he said, and Marco’s smile was anything but kind, as he turned.

This would be fun.

*

Marco perched on the arm of Pops’s chair on deck and watched as his brothers and sisters made fools of themselves below. It was Pops’s birthday, after all, and the sake had begun flowing before noon, and the sun had long since sank beneath the horizon. 

“If I promise not to drink anymore, will you join them?” Pops rumbled, and Marco titled his head back for Pops could see him raise one brow. 

“Have you ever been the only sober one at a party?” Marco asked.

“You know I haven’t,” Pops said, booming out a laugh.

“I’ll stay up here, thanks.” Marco settled back into his comfortable slouch. 

“Seems to me there’s someone else who you could be following around.” Marco’s eyes found Ace in the crowd without prompting. He was with his division, head thrown back in laughter, tankard tilted until it was just shy of pouring out. The torches gilded his skin, showing the angles and planes of his skin in sharp relief. 

Marco smiled. 

“Are we not having a good time?” Marco asked. “You want to be rid of me, so you can persuade someone else to give you sake. You can’t fool me that easily and use Ace as a distraction.”

Whitebeard muttered to himself about foolish brats. Marco didn’t bother to pay attention. 

“Is it so much to ask that I see you find happiness?”

“I have found happiness.” Marco nodded at their totally wasted crew. “We made a home here.” 

Pops smiled indulgently. “Yeah, we really did.” 

Someone chasing another crewmate smacked straight into a wall instead of turning a corner. Marco winced. 

“That will hurt tomorrow.”

Pops laughed. “He’ll be fine.” 

A companionable silence fell between them. The evening air was just on the right side of balmy, the singing and laughing cocooning them in family and home as the ship cut through the waters of the Grand Line. 

Pops yawned exaggeratedly, stretching his arms. “I guess it’s time for an old man like myself to turn in for the night,” he boomed, and everyone on deck groaned and protested. Marco, close enough to see the devious twinkle in his eyes glared suspiciously at him. This seemed to only encourage him, but it made Marco feel better nonetheless. 

“Ace!” Pops yelled, and Ace bolted upright, an easy grin on his face going straight to punch Marco in the gut. He beckoned with one hand. 

“I hate you,” Marco whispered out of the corner of his honest smile. His eyes tracked as Ace wove his way through the drunken throngs, pointedly looking away from his father.

Whitebeard just laughed.

“What’s up, Pops?” Ace asked, eyes sliding over to nod at Marco too. Marco rolled his eyes at him, and Ace’s smile widened. 

“I’m off to bed, but you’ll keep Marco company for me, right?”

Ace lit up. Marco felt something twine around his wrist and inhaled slightly. Whatever was inscribing itself along Ace’s hip was hidden beneath all the belts, just the edge of blue apparent. Could he feel that like Marco did? How low did it go? Marco swallowed. He’d gotten off easy with it on his wrist. Marco licked his lips, heart pounding in his throat.

Ace was on main seat and looking up at him unexpectedly. Pops was nowhere to be seen. 

“Uhh, what?”

Ace’s eyes were mesmerizing this close up, this simply happy. All Marco had wanted since the day he first saw Ace. The light from the torches glinted across the warm brown, and Marco almost missed the request again. 

“Come down here,” Ace said patting the massive chair. There was easily room for the two of them, and it would be much easier to hear. Marco slid down, decidedly less gracefully than it looked in his head. Ace kept him from falling off completely with an arm around his waist, curling around his front.

“Sure you can’t get drunk?” Ace said decidedly too close not to send a shiver down Marco’s spine. 

“Can we pretend I can?” 

If Ace’s simple question sparked along Marco’s nerves, his chuckle  _ burned _ . 

“Sure.” Ace’s arm didn’t retreat all the way, resting companionably on his knee. Marco let himself list, leaning heavily against Ace’s warmth. Ace snuggled closer a moment, then twist and reached down, snagging Pops’s purposefully abandoned sake. He took a swig from the bottle and passed it to Marco. He leaned back in.

“So, any bets on who loses their pants first?” Ace asked, and Marco grinned.

*

“So...” Thatch seated himself across from them, two plates heaped with food. He put one in front of Ace even though he’d been on his sixth helping of breakfast. Marco grunted in greeting, still not fully awake. “How do you feel about soulmates?”

Marco snorted and took a sip of his coffee. It was clearly Ace’s turn to deal with whatever was happening. Ace started in on his seventh breakfast with a frown.

“Soulmates are ridiculous.” Ace stabbed at his plate with the fork. “You’re supposed to love someone just because their thoughts inscribe themselves on your skin? Who the fuck came up with that theory?” 

Thatch crumpled, utterly desolate, and looked at Marco hopelessly. “Hey, that’s not...”

Ace blinked. Marco sighed a deeply put upon sigh and set down the coffee.

“Ace is right.” Marco smiled at him, and Ace let the warmth wash over his skin. “Love takes a lot more than being ‘destined’. Relationships take time and work.” His gaze was warm as he grinned crookedly at Ace. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and Ace could do nothing but grin back, heart beating a mile a minute in his throat. 

Marco had never made any sign he wanted more than what they had now. But sometimes Ace would wonder, what would he do if Ace just kissed him one day. They might be soulmates, and that might not mean anything other than magical ink on skin, but... what they had apart from that, that was worth the world. And sometimes, when he knew Marco was asleep or too busy to look at his wrist, Ace wondered if he ever thought about them being... more. 

That smile meant more, right? Ace glanced away. Did Marco love him like that? His friendship was already so much, he hadn't ever considered more. They’d never spoken about it, even obliquely.

Thatch groaned. “Why don’t you just talk to each other?”

“Ace and I talk all the time,” Marco said, sitting up straighter now that it was clear Thatch wasn’t letting whatever this was go. 

Ace shook himself out of his thoughts there would be time for that later. “We’re currently talking right now. I mean you’re here, but we were talking before that,” Ace said. “As much as Marco is capable at this time of morning.” Marco threw a roll at his head, and he plucked it out of the air and shoved it in his mouth.

Thatch made a noise Ace was pretty sure shouldn’t come out of a human and tugged at his hair.

“You two! You’re absolutely ridiculous. How can you be so oblivious?”

“Oblivious about what?” Lost, Ace turned to Marco.

“Gahhhh!” Thatch threw his hands up in the air. “I’ve had enough.”

“He’s talking about how we’re soulmates,” Marco said, rubbing his wrist, just under where his cuff was. Was that where...? 

Ace looked back at Thatch when he made a rather alarming gurgling noise. Thatch’s jaw had dropped, and he was looking back and forth between them like they were sparring or something.

“Marco!?!?! You can’t tell him like that!!”

“Dude, you thought I didn’t know? It’d be hard to miss for this long,” Ace said through the mouthful of roll. 

“But you’re not together? Neither of you know! Everyone knows that.” Thatch flung his arms so wide he knocked an apple off the table, and Ace caught it deftly before taking a bite. He caught Marco watching as he licked the juice from his chin and rolled his eyes at him over Thatch’s antics. Marco leaned into his side subtly, purple shirt brushing along Ace’s bare skin. “How could neither of you tell me when you got together?!”

“Do you remember how this conversation started?” Marco asked, clearing his throat.

“But---” Thatch gestured at them wildly, then stood back abruptly enough the chair wobbled alarmingly. He growled. “You two make no sense.” 

Marco slumped back against the table. “Where’s the fun in sense?” His shirt cuff rode up with the motion, and Ace caught a flash of red twinning around his wrist.

_ Soulmates might be ridiculous, but when he talks about love... _ Marco shifted and Ace was thankfully spared the rest of that.

He kind of hoped that faded before Marco noticed. He looked down to see his own.  _ Ace is worth it. _ Ace’s lips quirked as he expertly stacked the empty plates and carried them to the passthrough to the kitchen. Huh. 

Marco smiled at him, bright and happy, and they should probably talk about this, Thatch did have a point, but suddenly Ace wanted nothing more than to kiss him senseless. 

He really hoped that wasn’t on Marco’s wrist. 

Not yet. It was worth the effort after all. 


End file.
